Haircut
by Tiktok of Oz
Summary: 2x22 New York: Quinn muses on the choices she's made and a new look for herself.


Haircut

A Glee fan fiction

Timeline: "New York"

Note: Quinn's POV on her choices in the first two seasons and a lead-in to her new style in the Season 3 spoilers.

Getting Rachel and Kurt disqualified from competing in Nationals didn't work. Quinn didn't know how her plan could ever have panned out. It's not like Mr Schuester was actually paying attention to them. And it's not like the others were putting any effort into preparing their original songs.

So, New Directions were going to be totally humiliated in front of some of the most respected show choir enthusiasts in the world, and Quinn was sitting here and letting some over-the-hill giant of a woman shear off all her beautiful hair. The hair she put months of effort and money to maintain an angelic gold color, falling to the cold, shiny floor like so much straw.

Quinn glared at her hairdresser in the mirror. The woman was dumpy, her belly sagging quite some way past her uncomfortably tight belt. _Bet Puck would want to tap her fat ass_, her tired mind hissed. _If you had still been Lucy that night at Jenny's party, he would have jumped your bones anyway._

Quinn reprimanded herself. Thinking about Puck wasn't productive. She shut her eyes and tried to focus instead on the babble coming from Brittany in the chair next to the front door. She was flipping through a celebrity magazine.

"I want to kiss him - and him, too - oh, and her, she's all kinds of hot - no, not him, his hair looks like a mane. I'd feel like I was making out with a cat. And trust me, that is not something I want to do again."

Santana piped up: "I think he's cute. He reminds me of Fish Lips."

Oh, God. Why did she have to mention Sam? Quinn's shoulders slumped as her mind whirled in guilt and shame. What was the point? Even if they won Nationals, she'd never get what she really wanted, and it was her own fault. Every damn time she thought she was about to get her life back in order, she always screwed things up for herself.

She had hurt so many people...

"I think we're done, honey," said the hairdresser. Quinn opened her eyes and looked at herself in surprise. Her hair... it looked _good_. Short but arranged in a bob, much more manageable than her usual long locks but just as attractive.

Looking good meant feeling good. She'd told herself that over and over again, but it didn't seem to work anymore. And she wanted to feel good about herself again. She wanted to love herself like Rachel and Tina and even, somehow, Zizes did.

Did this 'do work for Quinn Fabray? she asked herself as she paid at the register. She liked it. It was harder to think of herself as a Cheerio when she couldn't easily toss her hair back into a ponytail. If she couldn't be a Cheerio or Prom Queen, if she couldn't be the one in the spotlight, maybe she could try something else. Something that she wanted to do for herself, as herself.

Lucy may not have been happy, but at least she had fun every now and again.

Nationals came, and Quinn found herself strangely serene about it all. (Brittany went into a panic the evening before and had to be convinced that she would be amazing by the combined forces of Mike, Santana and Artie). The duet Finn wrote for himself and Rachel was surprisingly good, and the choreography that Mike and Brittany threw together was much more impressive than what they showed at Regionals.

When all was said and done, when the results had been posted and Santana had stopped trying to claw out Rachel's remorseful eyes, Quinn allowed her mind to drift as she brushed her teeth (she did this six times a day, both before and after meals; Mom always said that dental hygiene was the first step on the path to holiness). She was proud of her friends. They had given it their all. And sure, Finn and Rachel probably didn't make a good impression by kissing in front of a live audience during a seriously competitive performance, but Quinn could sympathize.

It seemed like every happy time in her life had been ended by a brief, ill-advised brush with sudden passion.

So, on the flight home, as Kurt's cheek twitched periodically and Santana idly doodled screaming little female hobbits and lanky male giants being thrown into a live volcano filled with flaming Nazis, Quinn just hoped it would work out for Rachel. Maybe she could fulfill her schoolgirl fantasy after all. Quinn's own seemed too destructive, too much hurt and shame was caused by it.

No more Quinnie the prom princess in a tiara and gown. To think that's what she aspired for, to be remembered as a spoiled child who had clawed her way into a picture in a yearbook, to be frozen forever as a false smile on a duplicitous face, to be remembered as nothing more than a cheat and a liar?

She didn't want anymore envy or disgust. She wanted love. And she needed to learn how to love herself first of all, and not the person her mother expected her to be.

Exams were imminent when New Directions returned to Lima. Amid all the last-minute revision and the assorted chaos inherent in life at McKinley, Quinn was happy to escape to the restroom for a moment. She combed her fingers thoughtfully through her hair. She had put the effort into keeping it in a bob. Boys seemed to be attracted to it when she passed in the hall, and anything that kept their attention off the rest of her body was a plus. She was still a little self-conscious about her stomach and ankles.

Her reflection seemed to ripple, to show her the many facets and possibilities of the girl she was looking at.

Lucy. Quinn. Cheater. Cheerio. Daughter. Mother. Who was she? How could she define herself?

Lucy had dyed her hair blonde because that's what would make her beautiful. Blonde hair and a tinkling laugh and straight teeth and clear skin and a tiny body.

She'd had a plan then. Knew how to make herself into the girl everyone would bow before. But she didn't love that girl anymore.

Quinn was just beginning to figure out who she was. She was planning to start a journal, to write out all the things she enjoyed doing and what she wished she could do. She would try for real happiness this time.

But she wanted to look the part. She couldn't feel good about this new person she was becoming if she didn't look like her. Looking good made her feel good. Looking like herself would make her feel alive.

Smiling - a real smile this time and not a frozen display of perfect teeth in a dusty yearbook - Quinn called to Finn as he entered the choir room arm in arm with Rachel.

"Hey, come on! Hurry up!" She urged him playfully to take his place with the other club members as Mr Schuester congratulated them.

Finn stared down at her, bemused. When he saw that her face was devoid of impatience and instead glowed with a satisfaction he had never seen her wear before, he broke into a wide grin himself.

As the entire club broke into applause and cheers, Quinn reminded herself to ask Tina for some pointers on alternate hairstyles. It was time to experiment.


End file.
